The sky has cleared overnight and Saturday morning is bright and sunny, with almost no wind. The tide is high and we paddle easily between the two islands that were blocking us yesterday. With the wind slowly coming up behind us, we take advantage of the good conditions to cut a diagonal across Aylmer Pass. Our first objective is at the North end of this long bay : the Petit Mecatina portage which allows us to avoid the extra distance and risk of going around the island of the same name. The day goes by quickly. By 2 pm we are near the portage. We had been advised to look for a path a little bit North of the narrowest portage on the map. Although a bit longer, this alternative portage was supposed to be flatter and an easier carry. Unfortunately, we arrive at low tide and the bottom of the bay is filled with sand. We spend about two hours exploring the area to find the best passage and discover some of the interesting arctic vegetation that is found all through this area. The portage itself is short : about 500 ft. But the path goes sharply up and down, zigzaging among the tough brush, over rocks and stumps. It takes an hour and 5 trips to empty and carry the kayaks and another hour to ferry kayak and load across the small bay to our camp site. We are dead tired when we finally get around to supper around 6:30.

But it was worth it. We are on top of a rock face, facing a sheltered bay, home to a pair of singing loons.

On Sunday morning the wind has turned to the North-West and blows at about 30 knots. Our bay is sheltered but the shores of the islands across Baie des Rochers ("Bay of Rocks") are white with breakers. Marie and I discuss the situation and are hesitating... A decision is finally taken : we are staying put. Later in the day, after a long hike, a picnic and falling asleep while reading in the shelter of a comfortable rock, I realize how tense, tired and restless I was this morning. We took the right decision. This day of rest turned everything around and I am now much more calm and relax.

Monday starts with a better weather report although there is a risk of thunderstorm in the morning. By 8 am we are on the water.  One and a half hour later, as we stop near a small island for a gulp of water and a few munchies, we hear thunder and feel the first drops of rain and a cold draft of wind. We build a little shelter between low bushes and let the storm go by. The tide is rising quickly and I keep an eye on the tiny beach where our kayaks are waiting, pulling them up every few minutes.  When we get going again, the temperature has dropped noticeably and we pull on gloves and hats.

The sky clears out and we make our way, from island to island, bay to bay. As we start crossing Baie des Rochers, the surface of the water to the right of my kayak lifts in a slow but powerful upswelling. It's as if something had displaced a large volume of water just under the surface. I glance at the chart : there are no rocks or shallows that could have forced a tidal current to the surface... Could it be a porpoise or a Minke whale getting ready to surface and turning back down as it saw the kayak at the last moment ?  I'm shaken by this display of power!

In the distance, we can see the church and houses of Providence Island, built as a Summer village by the people of Tête-à-la-Baleine. When their main livelihood came from cod fishing and boats did not have the luxury of outboard motors, this allowed the families to stay closer to the men who went to sea along this coast. The village of Tête-à-la-Baleine is at the bottom of a sandy bay, well sheltered but 15 miles from the fishing grounds. We wanted to stop on Providence Island but the wind has shifted to the North and the building waves would make it too much of a detour...  A couple of miles before Tête-à-la-Baleine, we encounter two fishermen in their "speeder" (the ever present wooden sloop with a 30 hp outboard). They are the first people we see in the three days since we have left Harrington Harbour. We mention that we met two young sea-kayakers who came on board the Nordik with us in Natashquan. They were coming to Tête-à-la-Baleine where one of them had some family for a week of cruising around the islands. What a coincidence ! One of the two fishermen is the uncle of Danny, one of the two sea-kayakers. He tells us that they are leaving today for Providence Island.  Indeed, a few minutes later we see two kayaks in the distance paddling South. We signal with our paddles and hope they've seen us before disappearing behind an island...

We stop at the public wharf. The village of Tête-à-la-Baleine (population 336) is 3 or 4 miles away at the end of a small gravel road. It is one of the very few French-speaking villages of the Lower North Shore. We had expected to fill our containers with fresh water and check phone messages. No luck. There is no running water or phone at the wharf! A guy working near the power plant points us towards a "spring" a few hundred feet away among the rocks. I find a small puddle of reddish water, in which various insects are frolicking happily, fed by a few drops coming from between the rocks. I pass.  We'll make our water reserves last until tomorrow night and our phone messages will just wait a few more days. After all, we are on holidays...

We paddle a little bit farther and camp for the night on Eastern Grand Rigolet Island, just 2 miles away. We set the tent on bare rock at the mouth of a small sandy bay. After numerous observations and a lengthy discussion about the level of the next high tide at about 2 am, we carry the kayaks... higher than the tent!  As the wind dies, black flies and mosquitoes come alive, showing us who is at the top of the local food chain.  By the way, we were both right : our kayaks did not get wet and neither did our tent.

Tomorrow night we should reach our next portage. Based on our last experience, we're not really looking forward to it, although Sylvain Roy from Longue-Pointe had told us that it was an easier one. I guess we'll know soon enough...